Fire Drill
by Bunzai
Summary: SHIELD agents are bad at fire drills and cheat at Go Fish.


AN: Just a little idea that came to mind. In my head it was Pre-Avengers but even with AOU I get the feeling it's still probably true.

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It's just Clint's luck that as he's on his way to the range to work off four hours of the world's most boring cyber security seminar (which he's sure could probably double as a "New Tactics in Hostile Interrogation" demonstration) that he hears the wail of the alarm system.

SHIELD has many alarms and some he hears quite regularly. There's the traditional _someone's blown something up and now things are on fire_ alarm, which is a series of three quick beeps repeated every few seconds. There's the _someone's blown something up and its probably emitting a poisonous gas_ alarm, which is two quick ringing sounds which sounds like an old telephone.

There's also an _explosive ordinances have been left unattended_ alarm, _the structural integrity of the building might be compromised_ alarm, and a _hostile foreign asset on the loose_ alarm (Natasha caused a few of those during the settling in period with some of the lower level SHIELD agents).

He's never heard the shit has hit the fan, try not to die alarm but apparently that one's recorded in Fury's voice and comes with bright red flashing lights.

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This one is just a plain old beep that seems to be repeating every six seconds. Huh. It's just a drill then.

He maintains course with the firing range, because Clint Barton does not play by the rules. Besides, it's raining outside and the assembly point isn't undercover.

When he gets to the firing range he finds quite the sight. Four figures are sitting around the prep table just behind the stalls.

He recognizes Agent Caldwell and Agent Stolarczyk from an assignment almost a year ago. Stolarczyk's a field agent who's not bad with a sniper rifle while Caldwell is an intelligence analyst who he hasn't known to be wrong yet. They're both sitting on one side of the desk, deck of cards between them while Natasha and Melinda May sit on the other side.

Natasha has her cards stacked up and faced down on the desk, one foot propped up on her chair. She gives him a nod in greeting but doesn't tear her eyes away from Stolarczyk who is literally holding his cards close to his chest.

"I want the two." Natasha says and he can see Stolarczyk's brow twitch slightly.

"I have no two." His polish accent is thicker when he lies. Natasha raises an eyebrow.

"You cheat," he growls but slides over the card.

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"Come to sit with the cool kids Barton?" May is wearing a bright red helmet with the word 'WARDEN' spelled out in yellow letters. It looks all kinds of ridiculous on her and Clint wonders who on earth asked Melinda May to join the OHS Committee.

"Shouldn't you be ushering us out?" he asks, because May is doing nothing of the sort, instead she's rocking back in her chair with her feet up on the desk, five cards in her hand.

She shrugs, "Maybe I'm trying to get fired…got any nine's?"

The last part is directed at Agent Caldwell who grins and shakes his head.

"Go fish"

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"Sit Barton," Natasha kicks an empty chair out from beside her, taking her eyes off Caldwell whose shoulders visibly sag with relief.

Clint drops his quiver to the floor and places his bow on the desk, careful not to knock Nat's cards. He knows from experience she can be a little competitive at card games.

"Shutters are down on range. I think they install them after last drill." Stolarczyk looks forlornly at the black grates that have rolled down the stalls and bar their sight lines to the targets. "Three?" he asks Natasha.

"Przejść ryb" she answers.

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"Think I can hit that bloody speaker?" Clint asks, eyeing the offending box in the ceiling. It's placed on the other side of the range, high up in the corner, behind a flat screen that displays a close up of the target sheets. It's also behind a grate but he thinks the holes are big enough for an arrowhead to get through.

"You can't hit that," Stolarczyk says. Clint shrugs.

"Bet I could, you saw my shot in Hyderabad." And if he sounded a little bit like a petulant child it's confirmed when Natasha looks at him like she's mentally scolding him. _Need help unzipping for the measuring contest?_

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Clint ignores it and picks up her cards off the table to take a look. He memorizes them and places them back down in front of her.

"It was good shot…maybe your best?" Stolarczyk's mouth twitches and Clint knows what he's fishing for.

He wants to know Clint's best shot. The shot that's more than range and speed, more than calculations and rotations. The shot that hurts your fingers to think about, makes your heart skip a beat to contemplate. The one that should never have hit the target but did.

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Clint's about to lie and answer in the affirmative, because like hell he's giving something like that up, when Caldwell chips in.

"Hamburg. You hit a man at over fifteen hundred feet in a moving car. I remember because I told you he was going to take the bridge that day."

"Hmm" Clint contemplates, it was a good shot but he had the wind that day and the car window wasn't tinted and traffic wasn't that busy. Besides, it's not even close.

"Go Fish." He grins.

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"Sibiu" May says, the card game temporarily forgotten. "The mark you hit at the safe house."

"That was only 300 feet away," Caldwell protests, still thinking in terms of range. May glares at him.

"The arrow flew through two separate car windows, moving car windows and hit the mark just as he stepped out the safe house door."

Stolarczyk looks…impressed.

"It wasn't bad." Clint agrees. It was a hell of a shot. But it wasn't his best, no way.

"Go Fish"

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The group turns to Natasha whose watching him with the same gaze she used to melt Caldwell. Clint props his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands and waits.

He can see her thinking, cross-referencing with every shot she knows he's made. What do they have in common, what are they each missing?

She knows him. She knows it'll be more than just the physical parameters, it will be about what the shot _meant_. What the shot could _cost_.

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There's a tension in the air. May's radio cackles but she doesn't make a move to answer it. Stolarczyk is practically on the edge of his seat.

"Myanmar." She says slowly. She doesn't expand on it and Clint knows why. A little boy caught in the arms of a madman, being used as a human shield. There was fire and noise all around them and a screaming child he couldn't see through the smoke. Yet the arrow hit the mark in the eye socket.

The stakes in Myanmar were more than just a miss and a dent in his accuracy ratio. It's a good guess.

In a show of surrender he pushes the remaining cards in the deck across the table to sit in front of her.

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There is, of course, a chorus of groans from the rest of them.

"She cheats" Stolarczyk growls, throwing his cards on the table face up in defeat.

"Myanmar" Caldwell murmurs as he removes himself from the desk, no doubt planning to call up the mission report later.

"This is May, the range is clear." May finally responds to her radio before lifting herself out of her chair. The barriers are rolling themselves back up at the range and the speaker makes one final wail.

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Natasha hasn't moved though, she's still looking at the cards in front of her.

"Come on," Clint picks up his bow and quiver and then stands behind her to pull her up out of her chair. She follows without protest as he steers her towards the shooting area.

"You cheat at Go Fish" he accuses. Because he saw the cards Stolarczyk had asked for in her deck.

"I do." She agrees and then adds, "you lied."

Clint grins because of course she knows.

"A man's gotta have his secrets." He shrugs, handing her a pistol and gently spinning her around to face the targets. She pops the clip in, takes off the safety and adjusts her stance.

He grabs a pair of obscene orange earmuffs off the sidewall and slips them gently over her head to sit just above her ears, so she can still hear him, just for the moment. He then grabs another set for himself.

She's looking at the target but her breathing is just a fraction slower than normal.

She's probably wondering what shot could have been better than the one that saved the life of an innocent child. And its fair enough, he's not sure what he would've done had that one missed. But… it was also a shot he _had_ to take.

He flirts with the idea of telling her, but settles for the in-between. If she can cheat then so can he.

"If you really want to know…" he whispers, leaning in close. He can feel the heat of her back against his chest and he slips the earmuffs over her ears securely, sending her into a world of quiet whilst he speaks the rest.

"You. You're the best shot I ever made." And the arrow never even left the bow.


End file.
